The day after the ambush, once Ember confirms that she’s slaughtered enough of the jaguars to ensure that the town will survive until the detachment of [Soldiers] stationed in Silaraon can arrive to defend them from further incursions, she declares that it’s safe to travel back to Silaraon. I’m not keen to get up from bed, as bruised and battered as I am from the beatdown I took from the big cats, but I agree that it’s smarter to travel with Ember now rather than strike out on my own in a few extra days.
Hobbling back to the Silaraon Glass Works takes half the day, since we stop often to let me catch my breath. My cracked ribs will heal on their own in time, but each breath elicits sharp, insistent pain in my chest. The cramp in my leg is slowly improving as I stretch out and walk, but it’s still not back to normal.
Lionel and the Linas greet us outside the studio, leading a contingent of workers on their break. Concern creases their faces into frowns, but a ragged cheer goes up when they see us. The lunch bell is still echoing across the grounds as we amble over to assure them that we’re all right, which doesn’t seem to escape Ember’s note. She glances up pointedly at the clock on the side of the wall, but lets it slide.
“Any casualties?” Ember asks, her gaze roving about the courtyard. Her voice is calm and matter of fact, but the way the muscles tighten around her eyes makes me think she’s on the verge of erupting into another murderous hunting spree if any of her workers were harmed. She pushes us hard, but she frets over us like a mother hen all the same.
“No,” Melina responds immediately. “We heard the reports from a [Messenger], but he said all the monsters were heading toward Peliharaon. Even so, I kept everyone here for the day. I let them sleep on the shop floor, with padding from the recent shipments as bedding. Not ideal for comfort, but we were safe.” She smiles tightly. “I can’t imagine that the jaguars fared well with you in the area, though.”
A savage smile splits Ember’s face in response. “No, they most certainly did not.”
“What happened to you, Nuri?” Lionel asks, poking at my bandaged shoulder.
“Cut it out, Lio! I got bit being a hero. Hurts,” I growl, swatting his hand away, which only makes him grin innocently and try to poke me again.
“All right, time to get you inside,” Ember commands, guiding me toward the door by my uninjured shoulder. She jerks her head at my troublemaking friend. “Lionel, since you’re so full of spunk today, run and get a [Healer]. Nuri took a few wounds during his first hunt. He’s earned some time to convalesce, and his two kill bounties will cover the costs of recuperating.”
I turn to watch Lionel’s reaction to the news that I claimed bounties on my own, and sure enough, he doesn’t disappoint. His mouth gapes open like a caught fish dangling on the fishing line, and he stares at me unblinking for a long, awkward moment before whooping and running in a circle, pumping his fist in the air. “Nice work, bro!”
I shrug off Ember’s hand and bow, drinking in the looks of surprise and admiration. “I’ll regale you with the full tale later. Now, you heard the Boss; scurry off and fetch a [Healer].”
“I’ll get my Aunt. She’s the best [Healer] in Silaraon. Or, at least, she’s the only one who works for free,” Lionel responds. He salutes me and dashes away.
I chuckle, watching him sprint out of the Silaraon Glass Works compound as though he’s got a jaguar chasing him. It’s good to have friends.
Ember prevails on me once more, steering me inside without further resistance. She all but carries me up the stairs to her studio apartment, since my muscles are cramping up and I’m still dealing with the headache from overdrawing my mana yesterday. Tutting at me, Ember sets me down on her bed to wait for Lionel to return with a [Healer].
“Thank you for bringing me here to recover from my injuries,” I say, settling back onto the feather-stuffed mattress. It’s my first time in her apartment suite above the glass studio, and I’m pleasantly surprised by how cozy it seems.
“Can’t very well let you stay in that little hut unattended,” Ember replies, sighing as she glances at the door. “Of course, once Reijo hears what happened, he’ll want to take you home. For now, you’ll stay here. I have to go back downstairs; I’ve got a studio to run. Don’t even think about getting up until you’ve been treated, young man. Your father entrusted me with your care, and I’m not about to let you bleed out due to overexertion after going through all the work of dragging you to safety. I can’t lose you, Nuri. I promised your parents I’d watch over you, and I’ll do that to the best of my ability until I draw my final breath. You’re family.”
I choke up at her uncharacteristic admission of affection, and clutch her hand, squeezing once to show my gratitude.
Awkward silence greets my emotional outburst, but she smiles at me and pats my hand before withdrawing from my grip. The sight of the infamous Emberlin, adventurer of yore and boss-lady of the hardest-working glass studio around, gingerly wiping dirt off her hand where I smudged her, sets me off in a fit of soft laughter. The searing pain in my cracked ribs knocks on my mental door to deliver a strongly-worded letter that, yes, I am an idiot, and no, I should not keep trying to move or laugh until I’m recovered. I groan and flop back in the bed, grinding my teeth together to ward off the pain.
“Feel better, Nuri.”
I nod in response, but the soft bed is making me drowsy, and I don’t feel like saying any words right now. She smiles tightly one last time, then slips out the door to get back to work, leaving me to take a long-overdue nap.
=+=
“Sleeping on the job, eh?”
I wake to see Lionel’s teasing face looming over me, and I instinctively flinch back, smacking my head on the headboard. I scowl up at my friend, who has the decency to look ashamed.
“Sorry, buddy,” Lionel says, wincing. He grins at me a moment later. “I figured since you solo-killed a monster, you could handle little ole me.”
“Move aside, ‘little’ Lio. I have a patient to attend to,” his Aunt Althea says sternly, shooing away her nephew. She holds her open palm over my shoulder, hovering a few inches in the air, and moves her hand over the contour of my body, unerringly discovering each cracked rib or bruised limb.
Tingling energy bounces between her palm and my skin, where it burrows into me and buzzes against my channels. Strange as the sensation is, I wouldn't consider it entirely unpleasant. Warmth flows along the connection between us, and already my pain lessens.
Althea lets out a cautious hum. “Well, you’re fortunate. No lingering malicious mana that I can sense. Emberlin’s antidote did the job. Your mundane wounds will heal. I’ve coaxed your body into compliance, but I’m no miracle worker. You’ll still need some time until you’re fit for work. I’ll tell your boss to go easy on you.”
Lionel snorts at her proclamation. “Ember doesn’t know how to go easy on anyone. But don’t worry, Auntie, I’ll take good care of your patient.”
“That’s precisely what I was afraid of,” Althea replies, arching her brow at him. “He’ll be back on his feet in no time, as long as he doesn’t suffer unduly from your ministrations.”
Lionel claps a hand over his heart with an aggrieved expression on his face. “You wound me, Auntie! You know I have only his best in mind.”
“As do I. That's why I won’t let you anywhere near him for the next few days,” she says, nudging her nephew with her elbow. “This humble [Healer] remembers how much mischief you two got into as children.”
A moment later, Ember pops in to check on us. She frowns at Lionel. “Don’t you have work to take care of? Seem to recall asking you to fetch your esteemed Aunt, not to hang around and play hooky.”
“With respect, I couldn’t leave my friend in this kind of condition in good conscience. Now that he’s been cleared, I’ll get back to work. Clearly, you were worried about him too." Lionel gives her a cheeky grin. “You know I’m always good for my orders, sooner or later.”
Ember’s lips press into a thin flat line. Finally, she sighs and gestures toward the chair next to the bed. “You might as well make yourself comfortable. Keep an eye on him, and don’t let him get up yet. I was going to stay with him, but better you than me in case someone has to assist him with the lavatory.”
Horror dawns on Lionel’s face. “On second thought, I have an important commission to finish up. Deadline’s tonight. Whadya know about that!”
Aunt Althea snickers and ushers him out of the room, leaving me to talk with my Master.
“I’m not an invalid. I can take myself to the lav,” I protest, though without any heat in light of the way everyone is caring for me. “Hey, I killed two of those big monsters attacking the town. And I’ll bet if I had more than one Skill, I could have taken out the third one, too!”
Ember rolls her eyes and huffs at me with crossed arms, but I just laugh at her. Irritation is how she shows affection, which means I haven’t annoyed her yet. When she grows aloof, that means she’s angry. Well and truly peeved. She leans down and looks me in the eye, transfixing me with her intense gaze. I swallow uncomfortably, my mouth bone-dry.
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“Taking a fight you can’t win is foolish, but heroic in some contexts. If that were your only kind of foolishness, it might be charming. But you!” She flicks my ear to drive home her point, and I relax. Amusement floods me; her fleeting wrath has passed, or has at least been transmuted into the kind of pity reserved for those who truly can’t help themselves. “You still have such an inflexible mindset, lamenting your lack of additional Skills. As if they would have made a difference; you're a [Glass Worker], not a [Warrior]. That kind of shortsightedness makes me worried for your long-term survival.”
“I saw you fight. You were using Skills. It was amazing.” My raspy voice sounds accusing, but we both grin anyway.
“Skills that I earned after years of training in the Royal army—” she holds up a finger to forestall the reply we both knew was brewing within me. “Training that you do not have, and that I don’t have the time to teach properly right now, as much as it pains me to admit. We’ll find time when things slow down and I’m not as busy running the studio.”
“Then why did you let me help at all?” I prod, searching for answers. She’s piqued my interest. “You were incredible all by yourself. A true hero!”
She uncrosses her arms and speaks slowly, standing at attention like she’s a raw recruit again. She shuffles from foot to foot as though she doesn't like admitting that she’s a hero. “The town garrison was away on patrol. The cats noticed and took advantage. No one else was there. So I stepped up. You were the only one there I could trust to also step up, and I was glad to have you on my side. Don’t complain that you can’t keep up with a trained [Soldier].”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. That’s why it makes sense to teach me more combat, though. I mean, I already helped this time. I killed a Shadow Jaguar by myself. Imagine what I could do if you teach me?”
“When you’re better, Nuri. Promise. For now, relax and heal up.”
My lips tug downward into a frown, but she talks over me. Now that she’s on a roll, the words come gushing out of her, like water surging through a broken dam. “I’ll admit that you’re tough and you have good instincts, but you’re a glass smith, not a fighter. You’re good at glass. In fact—and don't let this go to your head—you’re extraordinary when you apply yourself.”
My jaw clenches with a flurry of emotion, and my eyes well up, but for once I bite my tongue and listen without shooting back a wisecrack.
“Nuri, you need to stop worrying over Skills all the time. You’re obsessing over the wrong details. Improve your technique, and actually master your current Skill. I know you’re scared you’ll end up like your parents, but you proved how powerful your [Lesser Heat Manipulation] can be with some effort. You treat the Skill like a discarded dishwashing rag, not an integral part of your identity. Why do you think you’ll earn more if you can’t even appreciate the one Skill you have? Hone your Skill. You’ll be glad of the work you put in now once you hit your threshold advancement. If you live that long,” she finishes with a wink.
I chuckle, then wince at the pain in my ribs from laughing too much today. Groaning, I shift and hold my hand to my ribcage. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard to be patient.”
“You’ll get there. You’re already one of our most valuable workers and you’ve barely left your childhood behind. Don’t fret,” Ember says. I know encouragement doesn’t come naturally to her, so it means more when she offers kind words.
Her advice reminds me of an old debate, popular with both pre-adolescents and old philosophers alike: What do you think comes first, mastery, or magic? I frown thoughtfully, already knowing Ember’s answer to the supposed conundrum. Put in the work, get rewarded. Lazy, foolhardy, and also gifted? That combo doesn’t exist in her world—at least, not past the First threshold. Even after converting Potential into a Class, learning to wield mana Skills is hard.
“I should still have more than one Skill,” I say. Years of habit guide my words, rather than any real conviction. I dislike the simple answer, but deep down, I know she’s right. I’ve never been proud of my lesser Skill, and so I rarely use it for more than utility. I know people are supposed to practice mana Skills, but the idea of working to improve [Lesser Heat Manipulation] embarrasses me. It’s just boring. Why couldn’t I have gotten something awesome, like [Flametouch], or at least a Skill well suited for an artist. Maybe [Eye of Discernment] to aid with aesthetic designs?
“Hmph. I expect more sense from you, Nuri. What’s one or two years spent shoring up your foundation compared with the work of decades? Be patient. Don’t throw away your life. You have talent, just like your father.”
I flush at the comparison to a true master, unsure of how to grapple with the rush of warmth and affection. “I reckon that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Ember pats my shoulder. “Cheer up, Nuri. We’ll talk more when you recover.”
I nod weakly, too tired to continue our conversation anyway, and she slips out the door after waving goodbye. I don’t mind that she's getting back to work so soon; I’m touched that she’s spent this much time away from the glass studio as it is. She looks after us all, in her gruff way.
As my head sinks back into the soft mound of pillows, I mull over Ember’s mild rebuke. Am I simply impatient? It’s been half a dozen years since I gained my Class, and I’ve made big improvements in my understanding of glassblowing, flameworking, and forge artistry. Without boasting, I can legitimately claim that I have real talent when I’m working with glass and not mindlessly controlling the flow of heat with my single, solitary Skill. Is that why progress is eluding me? Because I don’t respect the Skill I have? I have the talent and mindset to provisionally room my own studio. I should also have two more main Skills, but I’m stuck.
Some people pick up Skills more easily than others, but no one has an endless arsenal of mana abilities. I’ve certainly never heard of more than half a dozen per Class, and even that is usually for those in the Second Threshold. I’m sure some noble-born [Mage] with every advantage available at his fingertips is able to break into the double-digits after advancement to the shockingly-rare Third Threshold. But does that truly make those once-in-a-generation geniuses any better? Or do more Skills simply take more time to master? Maybe adding versatility to the toolkit isn’t worth the trade-off.
Earning new Skills takes time and dedication. That’s why my Class Skill is so important. [Heat Manipulation] is useful for glasswork, even though it’s a lesser variation of the Skill. It’s an excellent beginner Skill. My Class Skill is the only one that comes automatically, for “free,” in a sense, and it serves as the foundation for future advancements. I’ve devoted my entire life to becoming an artist with glass. So why is my starting Skill, my only Skill, lesser? It’s eaten at me ever since the notification chimed in my mind after I gained my Class, and I can’t shake the feeling of inferiority.
I scoff, adjusting my head slightly on the pillow so my breathing comes more naturally. The rattling sound in my bruised chest doesn’t stop, but at least I don’t feel as lightheaded in this position anymore. Maybe Ember is right. Maybe I’m hampering my growth by using my Skill sparingly.
A seed of hope starts to grow within me. Maybe I’m too focused on the number of Skills instead of the quality of the Skill. It’s true that Skills don’t bridge the gap between lack of ability and mastery of a subject—they only provide a magical framework to allow our talents to flourish. If I’ve neglected my framework, then maybe it’s not my Skill that’s bad.
Maybe it’s just my mindset.
With that admission, my perspective crystalizes. Clarity brings order to my thoughts. I’m suddenly glad that Ember lectured me. It's probably been a long time coming.
Tentatively, I poke at my Skill deep within me. It still feels raw and strained after drawing so much mana at once, but it responds to my mental nudge. The bedroom warms up a little, but the response is disappointing. Everything feels sluggish, like the leftover mana in my channels is sludge that can’t move properly. I need to replenish my reserves and flush out whatever junk is causing problems.
I release my strangely tenuous connection with the Skill, close my eyes, and turn inward to examine [Lesser Heat Manipulation] with fresh perspective. I tell myself that I don’t have to activate the strained ability right now, only take an objective look to see if I can locate areas for improvement. My fingers are trembling as I’m caught between excitement and disappointment. Yet when I delve into my core space and draw near to the familiar, dizzyingly-complex crystalline energy structure that provides a pathway for my mana, an icy pang of terror grips my heart.
Cracks cover the surface of the Skill.
Panic crashes through me. What if it breaks? I hiss soundlessly, deep within the inner space of my soul, and my hands start to shake even harder. Just because the Skill isn’t top tier doesn’t mean that I want to lose the only ability I’ve ever gained. Forcing myself to calm down and deal with this rationally, I breathe more evenly and relax. I move my view, sending my consciousness in an orbit around the framework and examining it for damage. Thankfully, the hairline cracks are fairly localized, and they don’t seem as deep as I first assumed.
And then I see it. On the far side, hidden from view in my initial approach, the glowing title on the Skill confuses me. The banner is unfamiliar, pulsing with more energy than I remember. I focus on it now closely, read the words twice to confirm what I've read, and whoop in excitement.
Eyes wide open, barely believing what I’ve just seen, I fling the covers off and sit up. A wave of dizziness dissuades me from standing up, but I can’t stop cackling in glee. Footsteps pound up the stairs outside the little apartment, and a moment later, the Linas fling open the door to see what all the fuss is about, with Lionel in tow. It downright touches my heart to see the worry written large on their faces. I grin at the trio like a madman, fling my hands up above my head, and blow a bubble of concentrated heat so intense that the air itself ignites and steams.
Avelina promptly dispels it with a wave of her hand, showing off her superior control of fire, but she catches the undercurrent of excitement in the room and returns my grin. “Nuri did it! He finally did it. If I had known all it took was burning him, then I would have lit him on fire years ago.”
“It’s never too late to give it a shot,” Lionel jokes.
Melina sputters in response, staring slack-jawed at her twin. Avelina drags her over next to me, preening over the fact that for once her “smarter” sister isn’t the first one to figure things out. “So,” she says slyly, “Ember finally knocked some sense into you. About time. What’d you get?”
Understanding finally dawns on Melina’s face, and she surprises me with a squeal and a hug right around my tender ribs. “Nuri! I’m so proud of you. Congratulations on gaining a second Skill!”
Ignoring the jolt of pain from Melina’s hug, I put on a dramatic expression and shake my head slowly. “I didn’t.”
Guilt flashes over her features, and she fumbles for a reply, suddenly so awkward that it’s physically painful.
I can’t hold back any longer, and start grinning again, this time so hard that my cheeks ache. “I didn’t gain a second Skill. I did get a new one, however. You’re talking to the proud wielder of the upgraded, full-fledged Skill [Heat Manipulation].”
“Nice job persevering. Impressive upgrade while a jaguar used you as a chew toy,” Lionel says, returning my grin.
I stick my tongue out in an incredibly mature, thoughtful response.
Laughter washes over me, and I bask in their congratulations. I endure more good-natured ribbing about losing my [Lesser] qualifier, grinning all the while. The term “lesser” no longer stings as badly as it did earlier. Ember was right. I haven’t been truly practicing to master the Skill I already have. To my chagrin, I never pushed the limits of what it can do, not until I was thrown into a life-or-death showdown. I've been complacent, never using my Skill to its full potential. Pressing against the resistance and breaking through at the expense of straining my mana channels, however, has been enough to earn an upgrade.
I still don’t have a second Skill. But for the first time in years, I’m not ashamed of the one I own.